Death Becomes Her
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Join the Soul Reaper once more as he's sent to collect one of the BAU's own. Appearances by all the team. FOURSHOT
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Hello Readers! We would like to encourage each reader and author alike to participate in nominating their favorite fics and authors for the second annual "Profiler's Choice CM Awards 2011! The nomination ballot, rules and category summaries can each be found at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" Forum. To reach that post, please either take a trip to the forum itself OR links are provided on the profile pages of ilovetvalot, tonnie2001969, OR Profiler's Choice CM Awards. Nomination ballots should be pm'd to Profiler's Choice CM Awards ONLY. That link is also provided on the forum or through the profile pages listed above. We look forward to hearing from each of you!_

_In order to get the word out to as many as possible, we ask you, our fellow authors and readers, to let others know of this exciting opportunity. Whether by author's notes or Facebook, please let everyone know that the awards season has begun._

_**Also, the NEW challenge sign-ups for Chit Chat's October Challenge have began! "The Masquerade Challenge" is available now and we'd love to see each of you participate. For our Halloween challenge, participants will be able to choose THEIR OWN PAIRING and will be assigned a Halloween prompt to write. For example if you chose to write Morgan Garcia, you might be assigned the prompt "Godzilla". Maybe Morgan shows up at Garcia's apartment to help her hand out candy dressed as Godzilla or, perhaps, they spend Halloween night happily sequestered in her apartment watching a Godzilla marathon. The ideas are endless! So, come on over and take a look!**_

_And for those just wandering into one of our stories, BOTH ilovetvalot and tonnie2001969 are now on Facebook. Simply friend "Ilovetvalot fanfiction" and/or "Tonnie Fanfiction". We're having a blast getting to know our fellow authors and readers alike. It's a great place to either socialize or get that much needed muse kicking. As of yesterday, we have about 115 of our author and reader friends on our friend list and we'd LOVE to add you!_

_Also, we've posted new interviews with two of our fellow authors, REIDFANATIC and KDSanders at the forum. Stay with us as we visit with some of our favorite writers over the upcoming weeks. If anyone has any suggestions on who they'd like an in depth look at, please PM us._

_As ever, we appreciate every single one of you that takes the time to read and/or review our stories. Your valuable feedback is deeply appreciated and we love hearing from you!_

_And, if we haven't stated it before, we do not own Criminal Minds, but darn, we wish we did!_

* * *

**Death Becomes Her**

**Chapter One**

Stretching my long legs out as I watched the seemingly serene water of the pond in front of me, I shook my head. As the Reaper, I'd seen just about everything in my endless time of service. Nothing much surprised me anymore, and even less than that amused me. After all, death was a grim business.

No pun intended, of course.

But, sitting here in my spiritual realm as I waited to do the job I'd been pre-destined to do (don't get me started on that bullshit), I found myself grinning into the pond's reflection at the events unfolding on the mortal realm below.

My current assignment...the collection of one Erin Strauss' malevolent soul...lay in the hospital bed two realms down, that pale yellow hospital gown really most unflattering to a female with her complexion. And the self-proclaimed bitch was lingering, torturing not only me (who really, really would rather have been on the eighteenth hole somewhere), but her entire team as well.

Yep, she was surrounded on all sides. Not because the Behavioral Analysis Team were waiting to mourn her. Nope, not even close. Like buzzards circling a carcass in the middle of a vast desert, they truly just wanted to make sure the old bat as they said in the Wizard of Oz was "really most sincerely dead".

What? I know movies. I know copious amounts of inane knowledge that would send a lesser mortal screaming into the outer darkness. That's what comes from being around for a few billion years. But I digress.

I couldn't blame 'em. Based on the dossier I held in my hand, the woman had made each of their lives hell on earth at some point or another. Yeah, she'd been a real peach in her human life, and already I could smell that distinctive sulphuric aroma wafting over my nostrils.

Yeah, I'd be serving one up for Lucifer today. A trip on the down escalator was obviously on my itinerary sometime soon.

Glancing into the water again, I chuckled as the chick with the vibrant auburn head poked my unconscious query with a pointed nail. I'd almost had an opportunity to meet her a few years back when she'd been shot. But the Creator had his favorites and she'd been one of them. So, while I'd stood on alert for a couple of hours, I'd gone home that night empty-handed. It was cool, though...at least she'd had the good manners to decide which way she was going before the Colts had kicked off.

Shifting my gaze away from that unique soul in waiting, my eyes easily found the blonde head of Jennifer Jareau. She didn't remember me, of course. But, I remembered her. Unlike her friend down there, she'd ensured that I missed an entire half of the Steelers/Colts game almost a year ago today. Watching her exchange a loving look with Aaron Hotchner though, I guess I could forgive her for those trespasses. They appeared happy...and that had been the whole point in using one of my ten little dispensations for mercy.

Honestly, I'd had minor misses with everyone standing inside Erin Strauss' hospital room. And, I'd never taken them for a bloodthirsty lot. But you reaped what you sowed...and I couldn't deny that each of those folks had earned the right to make sure the Wicked Witch really was under the house, if ya know what I'm sayin'.

Yep, that was another movie reference. What can I say? The afterlife can be a bit boring. It's not all heavenly choirs and lakes of fires all the time. A being has to keep occupied, you know.

Sighing as I watched the monitors attached to my prey flicker, indicating the end was indeed nigh, I glanced at my watch. Definitely time to suit up, I thought to myself.

Now, I thought, tapping a finger against my lips as I contemplated my dilemma. Who should I greet my prospective guest with? I do that, you know...assume the body of someone you might feel more comfortable with. After all, whether you're taking the express elevator up or down, the journey should remain as comfortable as possible, right? If you were a good egg, you deserved it. And if you were one of the bad ones, well, let's just consider it my personal effort at mercy, shall we? Because let's face it, you had an eternity of hell, quite literally, ahead of you. I could afford to be generous.

Snapping my fingers, I grinned as my normal form...a better looking Peyton Manning (he's my fricking idol, in case that little bit of detail escaped you)...disappeared, and in its place...yes, ladies and gentleman, it is the great man himself…

J. Edgar Hoover.

Who better to greet the female version of him in the afterlife, right?

Yeah, sometimes my personal sense of irony is really spot on, isn't it? Thank you. Thank you very much.

Adjusting the cuffs of my starched white dress shirt, I glanced in the water again. Yep, just as I suspected...anticipation was a tangible presence in the room two floors below, and already I watched as Strauss' consciousness drifted further into the dream realm.

Oh, yeah, the countdown to D-Day...Death Day for me, folks...had commenced and the clock was ticking down.

Slicking the oily black hair back on old J. Edgar's receding hairline, I rose from my lawn chair and glanced over my shoulder toward the spirit realm's doorway. "Anytime now," I muttered to myself, straightening the navy blue suit coat I wore.

Pacing toward the entrance, I pondered the information sheet in my hand. A decorated agent, Ms. Strauss should have been a soul bound for a much sunnier climate. Her commendations and good deeds were many. It was the greed that had pervaded her soul. As she'd risen to the top of her game, she'd lasciviously searched for ways to climb higher by any means necessary, using both her body and keen intellect as weapons. In the end, those nasty deeds catch up to you.

Trust me on this, guys...St. Peter takes excellent notes on each and every deed you perform. It doesn't matter how big or small, good or evil...it all goes in that freaking tomb of a book of his. Make a note, folks, everything you've ever done in your life is accounted for (even that stuff you mere mortals try to block out of your memory). Believe me, the concept is really worth giving a little mental muscle to...that's all I 'm saying.

At any rate, I thought as I perused the crisp white parchment paper, even if Grand Dame Erin Strauss had been a saint...and she was a far cry from that...her direction into the hereafter had already been predetermined. By her.

Yep, that's right! Our very special girl had been contractually obligated since 1978 by her own hand.

And in case you're missing what I'm trying to say here...Erin Strauss had made a deal with the Devil himself.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Hello Readers! We would like to encourage each reader and author alike to participate in nominating their favorite fics and authors for the second annual "__**Profiler's Choice CM Awards 2011**__!" The nomination ballot, rules and category summaries can each be found at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" Forum. To reach that post, please either take a trip to the forum itself OR links are provided on the profile pages of ilovetvalot, tonnie2001969, OR Profiler's Choice CM Awards. Nomination ballots should be pm'd to Profiler's Choice CM Awards ONLY. That link is also provided on the forum or through the profile pages listed above. We look forward to hearing from each of you!_

_In order to get the word out to as many as possible, we ask you, our fellow authors and readers, to let others know of this exciting opportunity. Whether by author's notes or Facebook, please let everyone know that the awards season has begun._

_**Also, the NEW challenge sign-ups for Chit Chat's October Challenge have began! "The Masquerade Challenge" is available now and we'd love to see each of you participate. For our Halloween challenge, participants will be able to choose THEIR OWN PAIRING and will be assigned a Halloween prompt to write. For example if you chose to write Morgan Garcia, you might be assigned the prompt "Godzilla". Maybe Morgan shows up at Garcia's apartment to help her hand out candy dressed as Godzilla or, perhaps, they spend Halloween night happily sequestered in her apartment watching a Godzilla marathon. The ideas are endless! So, come on over and take a look!**_

_And for those just wandering into one of our stories, BOTH ilovetvalot and tonnie2001969 are now on __**Facebook**__. Simply friend "Ilovetvalot fanfiction" and/or "Tonnie Fanfiction". We're having a blast getting to know our fellow authors and readers alike. It's a great place to either socialize or get that much needed muse kicking. As of yesterday, we have about 115 of our author and reader friends on our friend list and we'd LOVE to add you!_

_As ever, we appreciate every single one of you that takes the time to read and/or review our stories. Your valuable feedback is deeply appreciated and we love hearing from you!_

_And, if we haven't stated it before, we do not own Criminal Minds, but darn, we wish we did!_

* * *

**Death Becomes Her**

**Chapter Two**

Sniffing as the pungent sent of rotting eggs permeated the air around me, I knew that my current query's ticket had indeed been punched. The smell alone was the only confirmation I needed.

Clapping my hands together, I knew that now came the difficult part...convincing said departing soul that they were, indeed, actually departed. That could be tricky. Especially with a soul as wily as the one wandering my way.

It took a crafty and cunning creature to negotiate with Satan himself, you know.

But more about that little tidbit of information later. I had a guest to greet, after all.

And I considered myself nothing if not a gracious host. Manners are timeless, you know.

Stepping forward just as I heard the slight whistling as the dimensions of time and space slipped against one another, I schooled my features in what I hoped was a reasonable facsimile of the legendary director of the FBI. I could have relied on my memory and just imitated the man's last expression, but I didn't want to scare my newest client. J. Edgar had not gone peacefully into that good night, and his last words to me had been accompanied by a less-than-flattering scowl that threatened to overtake his corpulent face.

Another piece of wisdom, people. Your mother was indeed correct. Your face will indeed freeze like that….and you'd hate to go through the afterlife being known as the lesser half of Beevis and Butthead.

Again, yes, I realize that was a media reference. May I remind you of the boring part from earlier in our conversation?

But, again, I digress - it's really a habit I'm trying to kick, but old habits truly do die hard. Again, no pun intended.

Squaring my shoulders, I concentrated on the distant murmurings from the mortal realm. And if I wasn't mistaken, I was hearing the distinct sounds of relief from the mortals below.

Watching as Erin Strauss slowly began to appear before me, I merely waited as she swatted angrily at her arm. That wasn't as uncommon as you think. Many clients enter the final plane of existence with phantom memories of their former pains.

"Hello, Erin," I said softly, nodding as she suddenly turned startled eyes in my direction.

Her footsteps faltered at the sudden sound of my voice and almost immediately her eyes found mine. Watching as her spine stiffened and she raised her chin slightly to rake me with what could only be described as a look of regal superiority, I waited for her forthcoming reaction. Already, I could tell by that air of haughtiness surrounding her that she was gonna be more than a challenge. She was going to be a downright pain in my ass.

"Original," she smirked, crossing her arms over her chest as she took in my form. "But it would be more realistic if you had chosen to greet me wearing a dress, Reaper."

Now, this was new, I thought as my own chin lifted, my eyes narrowing on her coldly beautiful face. Very few of the souls I collected even realized initially that they were deceased. And even those few that did realized that they had indeed kicked the proverbial bucket had no clue who I was.

"You know who I am?"

Impatiently tapping one well shod foot against the ground, Erin Strauss rolled her eyes. At me. No fear whatsoever shone in her glacial eyes. No emotion either...well, other than the impatience. In all my celestial years of service, I had never interacted with a departed soul that was actually in a hurry - no matter which direction they were traveling.

"Well, considering the fact that I'm dead, I assume that you're what's commonly referred to as the Grim Reaper," she drawled, her tone dripping condescension as she stared me down. "Although, honestly, I would have assumed parlor tricks were beneath a being such as yourself," she continued, stepping toward me as she arched one eyebrow. "J. Edgar? Really?" she said with a slight sniff of disdain.

Son of a gun...this little human was dissing my methods, I realized as my blood began to boil. This insignificant former mortal was actually criticizing me. "You do realize that I've performed this job since time began," I replied conversationally as I narrowed my eyes dangerously.

"Then you should be better at it in my opinion," she offered authoritatively.

Jaw dropping as she breezed past me, I turned on my heel to stare after her. "Not that I need to justify my actions, lady, but assuming a body that a soul was familiar with in life is often a comfort to the departed and makes my job a lot easier!"

Sniffing again, the woman replied, in a tone I could only describe as condescending, "It seems to me that someone who is only interested in making his job easier isn't the type of employee I would want in my division in my agency."

Before I could stop myself, I snapped back, "What agency? In case you missed the latest memo, which I believe came in the form of a death certificate, you don't have a division or an agency any longer."

"You really need to improve your bedside manner," she merely replied, arching one transparent blonde brow at me as she tapped her foot against the grass.

Why me, I wondered again, visions of a nearby golf course dancing in my head. I should have taken the retirement plan offered back in the Dark Ages and got out when the going was good. There had been plenty of beings willing to take my place then, and the population had been far more accommodating. But no. I had to be loyal and faithful to the duties I had been assigned…and look where it had got me now. Dealing with Earth's answer to Satan himself. Forcing myself to once again regain my control, I said, as evenly as possible, "And I think now would be a good time to start your final journey. Where you're going won't take long to reach. It's downhill all the way."

"Oh, I don't think so," my charge said with a slightly feral smile, much like a rabid dog I'd been forced to escort to the River Styxx for the guy with the big pointy horns. Last I heard, that charge had made a successful name for himself as one of Satan's leading hellhounds.

Now, this I was used to, I thought with a smug smile. Let the games begin.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Hello Readers! We would like to encourage each reader and author alike to participate in nominating their favorite fics and authors for the second annual "__**Profiler's Choice CM Awards 2011**__!" The nomination ballot, rules and category summaries can each be found at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" Forum. To reach that post, please either take a trip to the forum itself OR links are provided on the profile pages of ilovetvalot, tonnie2001969, OR Profiler's Choice CM Awards. Nomination ballots should be pm'd to Profiler's Choice CM Awards ONLY. That link is also provided on the forum or through the profile pages listed above. We look forward to hearing from each of you!_

_In order to get the word out to as many as possible, we ask you, our fellow authors and readers, to let others know of this exciting opportunity. Whether by author's notes or Facebook, please let everyone know that the awards season has begun._

_**Also, the NEW challenge sign-ups for Chit Chat's October Challenge have began! "The Masquerade Challenge" is available now and we'd love to see each of you participate. For our Halloween challenge, participants will be able to choose THEIR OWN PAIRING and will be assigned a Halloween prompt to write. For example if you chose to write Morgan Garcia, you might be assigned the prompt "Godzilla". Maybe Morgan shows up at Garcia's apartment to help her hand out candy dressed as Godzilla or, perhaps, they spend Halloween night happily sequestered in her apartment watching a Godzilla marathon. The ideas are endless! So, come on over and take a look!**_

_And for those just wandering into one of our stories, BOTH ilovetvalot and tonnie2001969 are now on __**Facebook**__. Simply friend "Ilovetvalot fanfiction" and/or "Tonnie Fanfiction". We're having a blast getting to know our fellow authors and readers alike. It's a great place to either socialize or get that much needed muse kicking. As of yesterday, we have about 115 of our author and reader friends on our friend list and we'd LOVE to add you!_

_As ever, we appreciate every single one of you that takes the time to read and/or review our stories. Your valuable feedback is deeply appreciated and we love hearing from you!_

_And, if we haven't stated it before, we do not own Criminal Minds, but darn, we wish we did!_

* * *

**Death Becomes Her**

**Chapter Three**

"Would you perhaps like to take a moment and gather your thoughts?" I offered in my best congenial voice that I had perfected across the centuries. No reason to be rude, was there? After all, if I was going to have spend this trip with a female Hitler, then obviously I needed to conserve my energy.

The woman smirked at me as she crossed her arms over her chest. "What I need is for you to quit this insipid chattering and find someone who has the authority to alter whatever travel plans you think you must fulfill."

Had I just been dissed on my own turf? And if I wasn't mistaken, the look in her eyes told me that she fully intended on doing it again.

"Look, Erin..."

"You may call me Director Strauss," she interrupted me imperiously, that insipid foot once again tapping against the ground.

"No, I don't think I will," I muttered, matching her pose as I glared at her. "Whether you want to accept facts or not, your fate was sealed well before you reached this point. It will go best for you if you don't fight the transition process." Holding up my hand as I saw her mouth open once again, I added, sternly, "No talking." Ruffling through my paperwork, I flipped to the page I needed. "I've already received your travel orders from on high...or down low, considering the direction you'll be going."

"Then you need to review your itinerary, Reaper. You've been misinformed," she bit out, lifting her chin as her body solidified before me, her soul having made the final transition into my realm. As if I needed more confirmation, the noise from two realms down was enough to let me know that she had fully become my responsibility now. Looking around as she, too, heard the noise, she frowned. "What's that sound?"

Glancing up at her, I debated my response for a moment. Usually, I didn't like to twist the knife into the departed's back, but her attitude had already assured me that she was what I liked to refer to as a quote…special case…unquote. And, of course, there was that honesty policy I'd had in place for centuries. I'd hate to break my perfect streak now.

"What do youthink it is?" I asked smugly, dropping the papers to my side as I looked her over.

"How should I know?" she snapped, looking around again as she tried to find the source of the noise. "It sounds like you have some kind of party going on up here."

"Oh, not here." I shook my head as my J. Edgar Hoover-like face smiled pleasantly at her. "But, there's definitely a celebration commencing two floors down. Let's take a look, shall we?" I suggested, gripping her arm firmly and guiding her toward my reflecting pond.

"A look at what?" she barked angrily as I waved my hand over the peaceful, gurgling water, making the blue ripples as transparent as glass with a flip of my palm.

"Well, a lot of my transient souls are aided by seeing their departed body. Of course, it's a mere shell now and..."

Narrowing her eyes as she looked into the pond, she shrieked, "Is Penelope Garcia actually dancing beside my body?"

Leaning forward, my lips twitched in amusement, "I do believe she is. Look at it this way. She's not tap dancing on your grave."

"And why is Derek Morgan poking me?" she growled, one hand landing on her hip as she glared at the translucent portal.

"I believe I heard him worrying earlier that true evil doesn't really die. If you ask me, he's trying to make sure." In spite of myself, I grinned as the muscular black man peeled back the sheet at Strauss' feet and wiggled her now-cold toe.

"Unbelievable," she hissed, glaring into the peephole to the mortal realm.

"Really?" I grunted, glancing down at her file again. "Based on my records here, you were sort of a pain in the ass in your mortal life."

"I was efficient and successful," she retorted smartly, propping her free hand on her hip. "Being everyone's friend isn't exactly conducive to leading a band of would-be renegades," she continued, gesturing at the scene below. "Oh my God!" she bellowed. "Did David Rossi just request to be present at my autopsy? I died of natural causes, you idiot!" she screamed at the water.

Cocking my head as I pulled my eyes away from my paperwork, I chuckled. "Take it easy. The doctor obviously said no. Besides, I think he's more interested in witnessing your embalming anyway." I shrugged, enjoying watching her cheeks redden with rage.

"I'd like to speak with your supervisor, you infuriating, irritating, sanctimonious..."

Holding up a hand to interrupt her, I shook my head. "No boss. No supervisor. I'm a one man show, lady. Take it up with the complaint department when you reach your destination." Clearing my throat, I made a production of flipping a page in her file before saying, "And speaking of destinations, I do believe the Prince of Darkness is anxiously awaiting your imminent arrival."

"Satan?" Erin sniffed, her chin jerking up as she glared at me, her shoulders stiffening once again. "I don't think so."

"Oh, here we go again," I groaned, more to myself than to her. "You know, I thought you'd be different," I remarked, frankly annoyed with her. "After all, when you mortals make a deal with the Devil, do you honestly expect that he won't collect? He's freaking SATAN, lady. Compassion isn't in his vocabulary. Reneging on a contract with him signed in your own blood isn't really an option here, chick," I added, dangling said contract in front of her upturned patrician nose. There was nothing worse than dealing with a dearly departed blue blood snob. It was an absolute bitch to get them where they needed to go - which, for the record was all too often below the stairs if you catch my meaning.

Rolling her eyes, she shoved the binding document back toward me as she shrugged carelessly. "Evidently, a requirement of being the Grim Reaper isn't literacy. Tell me, have you even read the contract you're waving at me?"

Drawing my eyebrows together, I glanced down at it. "Well, honestly, no...but, trust me...they're all pretty standard and mundane. And they all end the same way. You know, with me escorting said soul, i.e. YOU, to hell."

I have to admit that I took a small bit of pleasure in that last sentence. So sue me.

"Not this time," Erin Strauss grinned complacently as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I suggest you take a closer look. Specifically, at clause 202."


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Hello Readers! We would like to encourage each reader and author alike to participate in nominating their favorite fics and authors for the second annual "__**Profiler's Choice CM Awards 2011**__!" The nomination ballot, rules and category summaries can each be found at "Chit Chat on Author's Corner" Forum. To reach that post, please either take a trip to the forum itself OR links are provided on the profile pages of ilovetvalot, tonnie2001969, OR Profiler's Choice CM Awards. Nomination ballots should be pm'd to Profiler's Choice CM Awards ONLY. That link is also provided on the forum or through the profile pages listed above. We look forward to hearing from each of you!_

_In order to get the word out to as many as possible, we ask you, our fellow authors and readers, to let others know of this exciting opportunity. Whether by author's notes or Facebook, please let everyone know that the awards season has begun._

_**Also, the NEW challenge sign-ups for Chit Chat's October Challenge have began! "The Masquerade Challenge" is available now and we'd love to see each of you participate. For our Halloween challenge, participants will be able to choose THEIR OWN PAIRING and will be assigned a Halloween prompt to write. For example if you chose to write Morgan Garcia, you might be assigned the prompt "Godzilla". Maybe Morgan shows up at Garcia's apartment to help her hand out candy dressed as Godzilla or, perhaps, they spend Halloween night happily sequestered in her apartment watching a Godzilla marathon. The ideas are endless! So, come on over and take a look!**_

_And for those just wandering into one of our stories, BOTH ilovetvalot and tonnie2001969 are now on __**Facebook**__. Simply friend "Ilovetvalot fanfiction" and/or "Tonnie Fanfiction". We're having a blast getting to know our fellow authors and readers alike. It's a great place to either socialize or get that much needed muse kicking. As of yesterday, we have about 115 of our author and reader friends on our friend list and we'd __**LOVE**__ to add you!_

_As ever, we appreciate every single one of you that takes the time to read and/or review our stories. Your valuable feedback is deeply appreciated and we love hearing from you!_

_**And, for those that have been leaving anonymous reviews, unfortunately, after more than one particularly abusive review in the last couple of days, we have decided to disallow them on our stories. We adore hearing from each one of you, but it has become necessary to change our format in order to be able to address issues one on one. In other words, if you praise a story, we want to say "THANK YOU!", but if you make the decision to be abusive, we may also now defend ourselves, our story and our actions privately rather than publicly.**_

_And, if we haven't stated it before, we do not own Criminal Minds, but darn, we wish we did!_

* * *

**Death Becomes Her**

**Chapter Four**

"Look," I said as calmly as possible, which, given the circumstances wasn't exactly an easy feat, "Stalling for time is not going to change the outcome. If you'd just…"

But before I could finish my attempt at simple placation, I felt the document ripped out of my hands. I would have stared in open-mouthed amazement, but I had not time to respond before the woman who had quickly became the bane of my existence shoved the papers back at me, a supercilious smile on her entirely too-wrinkle free face. Man, a lot had changed with the advent of Botox.

"Shut up and read," Strauss demanded as she stared at me, those beady eyes of hers boring into mine as her manicured nail tapped a staccato beat against one page. "Right here," she said with another impatient tap against the page in a voice that quickly threatened to top my annoyance threshold.

"Again, your destination has been determined," I insisted, even as my eyes dropped to the black and white parchment before me. And suddenly, I felt my earlier assurances dry up in my throat as I rapidly read the clause in question.

I'll be damned, I thought in almost shock. Well, not really, since that's not spiritually possible for a being such as myself. But the sentiment was the same in this situation. Indeed, it appeared that Satan, that so-called wily devil himself, had allowed one of his iron-clad contracts to contain an escape clause.

And double damn if God himself hadn't endorsed it!

Lifting my gaze back to the woman in front of me, I narrowed my eyes. "Okay, lady, just who are you?"

Lifting an eyebrow, Erin smiled tightly. "Well, you have the file. Why don't you tell me?" she suggested pleasantly.

"This isn't happening," I muttered, dropping my eyes back to the document in my hand. "Not. Freaking. Happening."

"I really don't think that's appropriate language for an angel of death, do you?" she sniffed haughtily.

"First off, as I've said for eons, I'm no angel. And even if I were," I blustered, my spine stiffening as I lifted my eyes to glare at the inconvenience in front of me, "I wouldn't be an angel of death. I'd be THE angel of death! I'm a one man show, chick. There is NO Bonnie to my Clyde. No Cleopatra to my Cesaer. NO..."

"You really should save your breath," Strauss informed me with a roll of her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest again. "All good things must come to an end. According to those documents you hold in your hand, I can assure you that times have changed. You, Ang-"

"Lady, if you call me an Angel again, I'm gonna show you some of my little known powers," I threatened, the sizzle running down my arm into my fingers warning me that I was rapidly approaching the end of my patience. Which, in my defense, was a rarity. I was usually the soul of tact and discretion.

Well...discretion, at least. Tact...I was still working on that.

"Fine," Erin spat in a clipped voice. "What would you like me to call you then?"

"Oh, I can think of some things I'd like to call you," I grunted, my eyes traveling back to Clause 202. "Just call me Reaper...or Soul Reaper, if that stick shoved up your ass prevents you from relaxing enough to use a nickname."

"Hmmm...Satan referred to you as Bob," she said almost patronizingly, cocking her head to look at me.

"Only my friends...and evidently Lucifer…call me that," I muttered, dropping the file back to my side as I shot her an aggrieved look. "Great!" I huffed, pressing my lips together. "Thanks to you, I'm going to miss kickoff again! And Colts play the Saints tonight!" I said, stomping toward the portal to the Underworld. "I hope you're happy!" I shot over my shoulder.

"I'm dead, you moron. It's not exactly a joyous occasion for me," Strauss huffed, following me toward the tree line.

"And had you not tried to hitch a ride on MY celestial train, I might have had a little more sympathy about that," I sputtered indignantly, waving my hand in the air to lift the shields on my elevator to Hell.

"Where are we going?" Strauss asked, her tone more curious than anxious as she blinked at the double metal doors which suddenly appeared in front of us, opening with a soft whoosh of air.

"Where are we going?" I repeated incredulously. "I already told you, Ms. Strauss," I said, snapping my fingers and instantly reverting to my comfort zone appearance a la Peyton Manning. "I roll solo. Consider me the Lone Ranger."

"The Lone Ranger had Tonto," Strauss pointed out, seemingly unwilling to indulge my delusions.

Bitch.

Pressing my lips together I glared at her. But I didn't speak aloud what I was thinking. Again, working on that tact thing.

"This body really suits you much better," she said, gesturing at me with an elegant appearance. "You really ought to stick with what feels natural to you."

"Thank you ever so much for your valuable advice," I said sarcastically, barely resisting the urge to wrap my hands around her scrawny neck. It wasn't as if I could hurt her now...she was, after all, dead. "Let's go," I said, jerking my head toward the interior of the elevator.

Preceding me inside the car, Erin sighed. "You can't change a binding contract, Reaper," she warned as I followed her inside, jabbing the down button with more force than necessary.

"Maybe not," I growled, "but I can let what I think I can safely assume has got to be your father...brother, at the very least...know how I feel about this!"

"Is that your veiled way of implying I'm either Satan's spawn or the sister of Satan?" Erin asked icily, appraising me with a cold eye.

"I was subtle?" I asked hopefully. "And here I was just about to give up on ever learning tact. Besides, you're too old to be his bride," I chuckled snidely.

"Funny," Erin said briskly. "You'll need to have a sense of humor to spend the rest of Eternity with me."

Jaw dropping at those chilling words, I felt the elevator's decent end abruptly, the metal doors sliding smoothly open. Shaking my head at her, I exited the car, stomping into the Great Hallway of Hell itself and proceeded to channel my inner Ricky Ricardo.

"LUC-YYYYYYYYYYY," I bellowed at the top of my lungs, "You got some splainin' to dooooo!"

Damn, I thought as Lucifer's hellhounds charged me, I'd forgotten the freaking dogs. Yelping, I turned, grabbing Erin's arm as I leapt toward the metal tin can we'd traveled here within. Jamming my finger against the button, I released a breath as the doors slid closed, the harsh barking of the hellhounds offering us a fare the well.

"Not a word," I said, breathing hard as I stared at the closed doors.

"Interesting," Erin sighed, her voice unperturbed. "Death is afraid of a few dogs."

Groaning, I closed my eyes and fell backward against the wall as I felt the elevator start to rise. The next millennia was really going to drag.

"You know," Erin said, studying her nails as the elevator rose, "I've never been a protégée before."

Cracking one eyelid, I groaned again. Please, God, I prayed, let retirement be an option.

Finis


End file.
